Christmas Stories
by gurllimerdancer57
Summary: These are some biblical, half biblical, or just Christmas stories.  Please note that they are not written by me, but I have permission for re-writes.  ENJOY and have a happy holiday & God bless!
1. The Legend of the Poinsettia

**The Legend of the Poinsettia**

At Christmas in Mexico, most houses display the Poinsettia. Just as we have Holly, Misletoe and the Christmas Tree, the Mexicans have the poinsettia. They believe that the beautiful plant brings a blessing that will last all year. The tradition has existed since 1834 when a miracle occurred in a tiny village.

In those days it was customary for people in the villages to take gifts to the Baby Jesus at Christmas Eve. Little Maria, a poor peasant girl had no gift, but she did so want to enter the church and see the Baby Jesus in His crib.

She stood outside, watching others as they entered, carrying their gifts. Some took food, some took crochet and lacework. Others carried flowers. But little Maria had nothing. One lady passed her with a huge bundle of flowers in her arms. As she walked by, a leaf fell from the enormous bunch and landed at Maria's feet. She picked it up and thought, "I will take this leaf".

Others saw Maria pick up the leaf and smiled as she carefully wrapped it in her small handkerchief. And then, clutching her tiny gift, Maria entered the church. She took her place at the end of the line of people waiting to make their offerings. Then at last, it was Maria's turn. She stretched out her arm and carefully opened her fingers to place the leaf on the altar in front of the crib.

There was a gasp from the adults who had seen Maria fold the leaf into her tiny handkerchief. For as her fingers separated, it was seen that the little peasant girl was now holding a beautiful flower. The miraculous bloom was formed like a star with brilliant scarlet leaves

Word of the miracle spread quickly through the church and people fell to their knees. The gift of the Poinsettia came to be known as "The Flower of the Holy Night".


	2. The Ill Tempered Snowman

**THE ILL-TEMPERED SNOWMAN.**

**It was dawn on an icy-cold Christmas morning. The sun was emerging from over the horizon and standing on the top of a hill was the snowman. He had been there for about three weeks and was looking the worse for wear.**

**There was a stick underneath his arm. If he had originally had a hat and scarf, it had long since been stolen. One of the stones that had been his eyes had fallen off, so he only had one eye. **

**The carrot that was placed in the middle of his face to represent his nose was now rotten and had become black and shrivelled, and the small stick that was his mouth had slipped down slightly at one end, so that his mouth was crooked – he was not a pretty sight!**

**And he was cold! Oh was he cold! The wind at the top of the hill was relentless and he had almost become solid ice! He gazed straight forward with his one eye and watched as the sun rose a little higher in the sky. "That looks as though it might be warm", he thought to himself. The large red golden ball did indeed look as though it might be warm. "I think I'll just go a little nearer and see if it is!" **

**He carefully picked up one foot and shook away the loose snow. Then he did the same with the other and clumsily began to walk down the hill, clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety clump.**

**As he made his way down the hill, the snowman noticed an old woman gathering sticks for her fire. She was wearing a big red woollen shawl. "Ooh! That looks warm", he thought. He went over to the old lady and said, "Give me that shawl!" "I will not!" replied the old lady. "I made this for myself many years ago to keep me warm on a cold day like today!"**

"**Cold?… Cold? You don't know the meaning of the word!" said the snowman. "Do YOU have a pillar of solid ice running down the centre of YOUR body?" "No, I haven't" said the old lady. "Well I DO!" responded the snowman, nastily. "So give me that shawl, or I'll hit you on the head with my stick!"**

**Well the old lady didn't want to be hit on the head, so reluctantly, she handed the shawl to the snowman. And without so much as a "Please may I?" or even the hint of a "Thank you very much!" the snowman took the shawl and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders. With that, he set off once again down the hill, Clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety, clump. Followed (at a safe distance!) by the old lady.**

**A little further down the hill, the snowman came upon a young boy who was making snowballs and throwing them at a tree. The snowman noticed that the boy was wearing a pair of bright red woollen gloves. "Ooh! They look warm!" thought the snowman. "Give me those gloves!" he demanded. "I will not!" the boy replied, "My mother knitted them for me. They keep my hands warm on a cold day!" "Cold?…Cold? What do you know about cold? Bellowed the snowman. Are YOU covered with snow from head to foot?" "No", said the boy "I'm not". "Well I AM! The snowman shouted back. "And if you don't give me your gloves right now, I'll hit you on the head with my stick!"**

**Well the boy didn't want to be hit on the head so he reluctantly took off his gloves and handed them to the snowman. And without so much as a "Please may I?" or even the hint of a "Thank you very much!" the snowman took the gloves and put them on his hands. He drew the old lady's shawl more tightly around his shoulders and set off again down the hill, with a clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety clump! Followed (at a safe distance!) by the old lady and the young boy.**

**When he got nearer the foot of the hill, he noticed an old farmer sitting on a bench, tying up his bootlace. The farmer was wearing a bright red woolly hat. "Ooh! That looks warm", thought the snowman, when he saw the woolly hat. "Give me that woolly hat!" he demanded of the farmer. "I will not!" answered the farmer. "My wife knitted it for me to keep my head warm on a cold day!" "Cold? ….Cold? What do YOU know about cold?" the snowman angrily replied. Do icicles drip from the end of YOUR nose?" "No" said the farmer, "They don't". "Well they DO from mine!" said the snowman, "And if you don't give me your hat, I will hit you on the head with my stick!"**

**Well the farmer didn't want to be hit on the head and so he also handed over his warm, woolly hat. And without so much as a "Please may I?" or even the hint of a "Thank you very much!" the snowman pulled the hat down over where his ears would have been (if he'd had any!), pulled his gloves further onto his hands, wrapped the shawl even tighter around his shoulders and continued to the bottom of the hill, with a clump, clump, clumpety clump, clumpety, clumpety clump! Followed (at a safe distance!) by the old lady, the young boy and the old farmer.**

**When he arrived at the foot of the hill, the snowman saw a village. At the edge of the village was the schoolhouse and standing in the doorway of the schoolhouse was the schoolmaster – wearing a pair of bright red velvet slippers!**

"**Ooh! They look warm!" thought the snowman. He clumped up to the schoolmaster and rudely demanded, "Give me those slippers!" "Certainly!" replied the schoolmaster, But if take them off here I'll get my feet wet. Why don't you come inside where it's warm?" The snowman went into the schoolhouse and the schoolmaster led him into his living quarters. There was a big fire burning in the grate. "Now then", said the schoolmaster, pulling a chair towards the fire, "Why don't you sit here and warm your feet while I go and take my slippers off." The snowman sat in the chair and the schoolmaster pushed him even closer to the fire and left the room.**

**By this time, the old lady, the young boy and the old farmer had arrived outside the schoolhouse and were peering in through the window.**

**The schoolmaster returned and said to the snowman, "I'll give you my slippers shortly but I was just about to make some hot soup, I'll bring you some," He pushed the chair even closer to the fire and then noticed the old lady and her companions looking in though the window. "Come in" he said to them, you look colder than the snowman, would you like some soup?"**

**The three came in. They looked over towards the fireplace. All they could see was a chair and on the floor beneath the chair, a very wet shawl, a wet pair of gloves and a wet woolly hat, all floating in a great pool of water!The schoolmaster picked up the wet clothing, wrung out the water and placed the items on a clothes-horse. "There", he said, "We'll hang them here to dry". He picked up a mop and mopped up the water that had been the snowman. There was also a small, black stone and a piece of stick, which he threw on to the fire. The larger stick he used to poke the fire.**

"**That's the snowman sorted", said the schoolmaster. "Serves him right! Now who's for soup?"**


	3. A Christmas Tale

**A CHRISTMAS TALE.****  
>By Ian Birket (Panikatak).<strong>

**Santa was cross, he'd had a bad day.  
>His elves were on strike for more overtime pay.<br>Thay'd all been on strike since the end of the 'fall'  
>They wanted a 'National Elf Service' for all.<strong>

**And Donner and Dancer and Cupid and Blitzen  
>had gone of in a 'hoof' since early last Whitsun'.<br>His lights wouldn't flash and his bells wouldn't ring  
>and his Jing wouldn't Jang and his Jang wouldn't Jing.<strong>

**He'd asked Mrs. Claus for the weather forecast  
>and wished Christmas present would become Christmas past.<br>Global warming has meant there'll be no snow this year,  
>so she said, "Sorry my luv, there will just be 'rain dear!"<strong>

**On top of it all, he'd the presents to sort  
>and political correctness had made the task fraught.<br>No dolls for the girls or guns for the boys,  
>no fireworks that bang or pollute with their noise.<strong>

**No harm to their teeth from a sweet or a lolly.  
>Nothing sexist or racial, like a doll or a Golly!<br>No books on religion or to do with the body,  
>no 'Famous Five' and nothing on 'Noddy'!<strong>

**No caffeine filled drinks to cause tension and stress.  
>No glue and no paint, because of the mess.<br>No jigsaws with pieces that some kid could choke on  
>and nothing too fragile that would only get 'broke-on'.<strong>

**No feathers or fur and nothing of leather.  
>Nothing too simple and nothing too clever.<br>Nothing too violent and nothing too scary.  
>Nothing Royalist or 'Gay', not a Queen or a 'Fairy'!<strong>

**Nothing with e-numbers or colourings that might  
>bring them out in a rash or be hyperactive all night.<br>No balls and no bats which could injure or bruise  
>and nothing with bits they were certain to lose.<strong>

**No marbles or beads that a small child could fit  
>up its nose, in its ears or unmentionable bit.<br>And trees must be from a sustainable source  
>and the lights must be energy saving, of course!<strong>

**And gone were the days when all they would wish  
>was an apple, an orange and a wooden goldfish.<br>Now a video, computer and color TV  
>was what they all asked for when they sat on your knee.<strong>

**And he was tired and fed up of appearing so jolly  
>and he knew what he'd like them to do with their holly!<br>And he was sick of clambering about on those roofs  
>now he wasn't as nimble as he was in his 'yoof'.<strong>

**And he hated the folks who said, "No pets at all,  
>a puppy's for life not for Christmas", they call.<br>Well it's OK for them with their fine protestations  
>but what can I do with five thousand Dalmations?<strong>

**In spite of it all, at the end of the night  
>he'll have managed to give every child something right.<br>And he'll sit by the fire with a big jug of beer  
>and wish you all, "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"<strong>


	4. Santa's Little Secrets

**Santa's Little Secret.**

Santa Claus was almost finished. He had travelled several times around the world, delivering his gifts to the many millions of children who inhabit the Earth.

He smiled as he thought about the children. They it was who sustained him through the night. He drew strength from each and every child whom he visited. It was a special strength that enabled him to begin his preparations for the next year immediately after each Christmas.

This year was no different, and now he was nearly done. He placed the toys into the pillowcase at the foot of the bed. Then he quietly moved to look at the child, innocently sleeping.

He gently uncovered the little boy's head, leaned over and sank his teeth into the soft neck, drank his fill of blood, then refreshed, re-adjusted the bedding, rose up the chimney and flew away...

****PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS TAKES PLACE FOR AN IMMORTAL SANTA CLAUS!****


	5. Christmas Carol

**A CHRISTMAS CAROL. **

Narrator: Once there was a mean and miserly old man. His name was Ebenezer Scrooge (Boo!). Oh …..what a miserable old skinflint he was! – When his nephew called to invite him to spend Christmas with him and his wife, all he could say was:

Scrooge…..Bah! Humbug! (Boo!)

Narrator: When two visitors called, asking Scrooge to donate a little money to help the poor over Christmas, he said..

Scrooge…Bah! Humbug! (Boo!)

Narrator: He had a clerk named Bob Cratchit, who had lots of children. One of them was called, Tiny Tim. He was crippled and very poorly (Ahhh!). Scrooge was locking up the office on Christmas Eve and he, very begrudgingly told Cratchit that he could have the whole of Christmas Day off – but he must be in all the earlier the next morning! (Boo!)

Scrooge went home to his bleak apartment and was getting ready for bed when he heard a clanking and clattering (clanking & clattering noise) coming up the stairs – then emerging through the bedroom door – came the ghost of his long dead partner, Jacob Marley! (Oooer!). Long chains were wrapped around Marley's body and were dragging on the floor behind him.

Marley: Ebenezer, I come to warn you! If you don't mend your ways and become a kinder man, You will end up like me! Forced to wander the world for all eternity, carrying the heavy burden of guilt, forged link by link throughout my life! Take heed of what you see and mend your ways!

Narrator: Scrooge shivered with fear and listened as his dead partner told him that he would be visited by three spirits – The Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present and the Ghost of Christmas yet to Come. Marley then picked up his chains and walked backwards towards the window. He then floated out into the night sky – moaning and crying in agony! (Marley exits backwards, moaning and crying etc!)

Narrator: Scrooge was terrified! And then he began to think that maybe he had imagined it all and went to bed. (Clock chimes) Suddenly, he was awakened by the chiming of his clock. It was midnight and he sat up in bed as a spectre appeared in front of him.(Ghost appears) The ghost pointed a finger towards him and beckoned him to come from his bed.

Scrooge: (Frightened) Who – who are you?

Ghost: I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Scrooge: Long past?

Ghost: Your past!

Narrator: He took Scrooge's arm and led him to the window. He pointed out – Scrooge could see a school-room, deserted except for one solitary child. It was Scrooge himself as a boy – not allowed home for the Holiday like the others – his father didn't want him! (Ahhh!).

Ghost: Let us see another Christmas.

Narrator: The scene was the same school-room – only dirtier and grimier – the same solitary boy was still there – older and just as sad. The door burst open and in came a girl (enter Fan)

Scrooge: It's Fan! My sister!

Fan: Ebenezer! I've come to take you home! Father has changed. – he is much kinder now – come, the carriage is outside waiting for you!

Ghost: Always a delicate creature. But she had a large heart.

Scrooge: So she had. So she had.

Ghost: She died a young woman and had, I think, children.

Scrooge: One child.

Ghost: True – your nephew!

Scrooge: (feeling guilty) Yes.

Narrator: The ghost took Scrooge through his early life as an apprenticed clerk for old Fezziwig, who treated him well – into manhood, when he began to value money and gain – more than friendships. Scrooge for the first time saw himself as his past had made him. He didn't like what he saw.

(Exit ghost)

Suddenly he was back in his bed, awaitingthe next spirit – The Ghost of Christmas Present - He didn't have to wait long.

(Enter 2nd. ghost).

This spirit showed him things as they were now. He took him to Bob Cratchit's house. Mrs. Cratchit was preparing Christmas dinner. Even with the meagre pittance that Scrooge paid his clerk, they managed to fill a table with potatoes and vegetables – and a goose! Bob entered, with Tiny Tim perched on his shoulder (enter Cratchit and Tiny Tim).

Bob: A Merry Christmas to us all my dears!

Tiny Tim: God Bless us every one!

Narrator: Said Tiny Tim – Scrooge turned to the ghost:

Scrooge: Tell me Spirit – will Tiny Tim live?

Ghost: I see a vacant seat in the chimney corner, and a crutch without an owner. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, the child will die! (Ghost exits)

Narrator: The clock struck again and the third spirit entered (enter third spirit), The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Scrooge was more fearful of this ghost than the others – with every reason!

It took him to a group of women who were arguing over a deceased person's belongings. Another group, this time of business men who were discussing the death of someone they knew. There was no sympathy in the discussion, just a simple exchange of news and speculation that there were unlikely to be any mourners at the funeral!

Scrooge was then shown a corner of a derelict, overgrown cemetery. There was a neglected gravestone and the name inscribed in cold letters was – Ebenezer Scrooge!

Scrooge: Oh Spirit, hear me. I am not the man I was – I will not be the man I used to be. Why show me this if I am past all hope?

Narrator: The ghost dissolved (exit ghost) and Scrooge was once again sat in his bed! It was the morning. He pinched himself –then jumped out of bed, laughing and dancing around.

Scrooge: I'm alive! I'm alive! I must make amends.

Narrator: And so he did! He doubled Bob Cratchit's salary and made sure that Tiny Tim did not die. He became a real uncle and friend to his nephew.

It was later said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.

May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed:

All: God Bless Us, Every One!

THE END.


	6. Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa

**"Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus"**

This is a well documented story that I have been asked several times to include, so here it is:

The following letter was sent to the editor of 'The New York Sun' and was written by an 8 year old Virginia O'Hanlon. It was first printed in 1897. The correspondence has now become part of Santa Claus folklore and the article begins:

_We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:_

**Dear Editor**

**I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?**

**And the response: **

**"Virginia O'Hanlon **

**Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. **

**Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. **

**Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. **

**You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood."**


	7. The Story of the Pantetonne

THE STORY OF PANETTONE

Once, in a little village in the hills above Milan, there was a baker named Antonio and a very good baker he was too. He made bread for all the people in the village. Good coarse country bread that kept the villagers from going hungry when they worked in the fields, ploughing and tending the grapes.

Now the baker was a widower and he had one daughter a beautiful girl, but spoilt. Because her father was so very fond of her, he wouldn't let her do any work. Not in the bakery or anywhere else. He wouldn't even allow her to help with the housework. All poor Seraphina had to do each day was sit in her window and watch the world go by.

She spent most of her time looking out into the street and the market square - and eating sweets! So she wasn't only spoilt and bored, if truth were told, she was getting sadly fat!

One day in November, not long before Christmas, there was great excitement as a group of young huntsmen rode into the village looking for something to eat and drink. As Seraphina leaned out of her window, her eyes met those of one of the young men and 'pouf!' it was love at first sight!

Luckily it was love at first sight for the young man as well and he gave her a big wink! He then sat down to talk to the old ladies who are always to be found in Italian village squares. He wanted to find out about the lovely lady in the window. They in their turn were eager to know who he was. Tt turned out the young man was called Angelo. He was the son of the Duke of Milan and a very important person. Between them, Angelo and the old ladies hatched a plot so that Seraphina and Angelo could meet.

Angelo called for ink and paper and wrote two letters, one to Antonio and one to his daughter Seraphina. This is what they said. To Seraphina he wrote,

"Dear Seraphina, I love you. Soon we will meet and I will hold you in my arms".

To Antonio he wrote,

"Dear Antonio, I like your bread. Please meet me at the Market Square after Mass tomorrow. I have a plan that will make you rich and famous!"

He asked the old ladies to deliver the letters. Next day they all met and Angelo told Antonio of his plan to set him up in a bakery in Milan and for him to marry Seraphina. Both Seraphina and Antonio thought that this was a good idea and the next day they left for Milan.

Once in Milan, Antonio and Seraphina spent the day going round the bakeries of the great city. They tasted Torte, Pane and Biscotti and found them delicious. The biscuits were sweet and crisp and the bread soft and white, and scattered with wonderful seeds.

While they walked and nibbled at the bread, Antonio became more and more sad. At the end of the day he went to Angelo and said, "I cannot make bread here, my bread is good bread but it is bread for the workers in the hills. Your friends would not buy my bread". "Oh", said Seraphina, "if only you could make bread as sweet and rich as these dried fruits and candies". "Yes", said Angelo, "and as rich and sweet as this punch fortified with eggs and milk and honey". "THAT'S IT!" said Antonio, "I'll make a bread that tastes like all of these things!". And soon Seraphina and her father departed back to their village with wagonloads of the biggest eggs the sweetest honey and the plumpest raisins and fruit.

All the next day Antonio experimented and muttered to himself in his bakery and at the end of the afternoon, he put all the dough into bowls to rise overnight. The next day he filled every baking tray and tin in the bakery with the dough. There was still some dough left over so he put what was left into clean flowerpots and baked it in them.

Soon the whole village was filled with the delicious smell of baking bread. Antonio, Seraphina and the people of the village, plus Angelo (who had ridden up from Milan), could hardly wait for the bread to be cool enough to be cut and tasted. At last Antonio took his first bite and everyone waited with bated breath, "YES!" he shouted, and soon everyone was munching and laughing. And then Angelo loaded up the cart and took what was left back to Milan.

Everyone in the village waited and within the week, a cartload of new supplies came up from Angelo with a note, "My friends loved your bread and please can you make lots more? Also, make it all in flowerpot shapes because my friends liked that best. Bring it to Milan as soon as possible and Seraphina and I will be married the next day".

As soon as he could, Antonio with Seraphina set off for Milan with lots of the new bread. As they approached the gates of the city, Antonio could hear the bells ringing and he thought it was because it was Christmas Eve, but as he abecame nearer, he could hear cheers and the people calling "Toni, Tonio we love your bread, 'Pane', Panne, Panettone".

And that's why the Italians always eat Panettone, 'Tony's Bread', at Christmas and why the best Panettone comes from Milan.


	8. The Little Lame Donkey

**THE LITTLE LAME DONKEY.**

**It was a cold night. There was a full moon and it lit up the snow-covered meadow where the little lame donkey stood alone. **

**He had been there since the spring when he arrived with a small travelling fair. He was limping then and his owner decided to leave him behind when the fair moved on. The little donkey did not mind. At least he wouldn't have to pull the heavy cart in which children sat while he took them around the short circuit around the fairground. He was quite content to stay in the meadow. There was plenty of grass to eat and the local farmers who owned the adjoining fields threw him cabbages, turnips and carrots and saw that he always had plenty of water to drink. **

**But he was lonely. Particularly tonight, for it was Christmas Eve and all donkeys know about Christmas. After all, was it not one of his ancestors who carried Mary to Bethlehem? **

**He heard the far away village church clock strike midnight and in his utter loneliness, he brayed a long, sad bray. And then he heard a different sound. A very quiet jingling, tinkling sound. It became louder and seemed to be passing overhead! The donkey looked up but could see nothing. The jingling sound faded away and was replaced by another sound, crunching footsteps in the snow! Someone was walking up the meadow towards him! The donkey suddenly felt excited! Who could it be, out at this time on Christmas Eve? **

**It was a man, quite large, wearing a heavy fur coat and hood. He seemed to be carrying a bulky load on his shoulder. As he got closer, the donkey noticed that the man had a bushy white beard and twinkling eyes. "Hello old chap, how are you getting along?" the man said. He removed the large bulky sack from his shoulder and laid it down at his feet. **

**The donkey thought that he already knew the answer before he asked nervously, "Hello, who are you?" The large man smiled, "Well, I'm known by different names in different places. Sometimes I'm called Sinterklass, and occasionally, Kriss Kringle. Often I'm called St. Nicholas and Santa Claus but given the choice, I quite like being called Father Christmas! **

**The donkey said, "But I thought you rode on a sleigh drawn by reindeer?" "So I do" replied Father Christmas, "but I have nearly finished my deliveries for this year and I have let the reindeer go on ahead. They have been working very hard. I heard you braying just now and I thought you sounded lonely, so I decided to come and see you". **

"**Where are you going now?" asked the donkey. "Well my final delivery is at Green Meadow Bottom and I have a couple of calls to make on the way". "But Green Meadow Bottom is twelve miles away!" said the donkey. "I know" said Father Christmas, "but if I keep going, it won't take me too long!" **

**The donkey looked at the large sack at his feet. "I could help you" he said. "You could lift the sack on to my back and I could carry it for you!". "But what about your lame leg?" answered Father Christmas. "I can do it!" insisted the little donkey. The old man smiled. "Very well" he said, "and so you shall!" He lifted the sack gently on to the donkey's back and off the two of them went, across the meadow, down into the valley and over the hill. **

**They chatted as they walked and the time passed quickly. They made four stops on the way, as Father Christmas took mysterious and exciting looking packages from the sack and left them on doorsteps and windowsills. They eventually arrived at Green Meadow Bottom. A band of blue, yellow and orange light began to appear over the horizon. Dawn was breaking. The donkey noticed a wisp of smoke curling from the chimney of Green Meadow Farm, the home of the Appleyards. **

"**Up and about already!" said Father Christmas as he lifted the sack for the final time from the donkey's back. "Time I wasn't here!" He patted the donkey on the neck. "Cheerio, old chap, take care and I'll see you next year!" The donkey looked around but Father Christmas was nowhere to be seen! **

**Just then the back door of the farmhouse opened as Mrs. Appleyard came out to feed the chickens. Her eyes fell upon the donkey. "Well, for goodness sake!" she exclaimed and turned back to call into the farmhouse, "Mr. Appleyard! Boys! Come and look, we have a visitor!" **

**Mr. Appleyard appeared in his pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown. He removed the unlit pipe from his mouth. "My word!" he said, "This is a surprise!" He made his way over to the donkey. "Look Martha!" He called to her, "I think Father Christmas has been". He patted the little donkey, and then bent down, to examine the sack. **

**By this time the three boys in the household had arrived. It was Christmas morning and they were excited! They made straight for the donkey and for a moment forgot about the sack, still bulging with gifts. "Look Dad!" said one of the boys. "There is some tinsel string around the donkey's neck, and a label!" Mr. Appleyard looked at the label and read the message aloud, "Here is a special present for you all – He has a lame leg, take care of him and have a very Merry Christmas!" **

**Well they did look after him. They loved him. And , who knew a lot about animals, helped the donkey's leg to get better. In the springtime, he was well enough to give the boys a ride around the farm yard and he was never lonely ever again and as far as I know, he is with them still!**


	9. The True Christmas Story

**A TRUE CHRISTMAS STORY.**

**Robert May was a short man, barely five feet in height. He was born in the early part of the last century, that is to say, the nineteen hundreds. **

**Bullied at school, he was ridiculed and humiliated by other children because he was smaller than other boys of the same age. Even as he grew up, he was often mistaken for someone's little brother. **

**When he left college he became employed as a copywriter with Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. He married and in due course, his wife presented him with a daughter. Then when his little daughter was two years old, tragedy struck; his wife was diagnosed with a debilitating disease. She became bedridden and remained so until she died. Nearly everything he earned went on medication and doctor's bills. Money was short and life was hard. **

**One evening in early December of 1938 and two years into his wife's illness, his four-year-old daughter climbed onto his knee and asked, "Daddy, why isn't Mummy like everybody else's mummy?" It was a simple question, asked with childlike curiosity. But it struck a personal chord with Robert May. **

**His mind flashed back to his own childhood. He had often posed a similar question, "Why can't I be tall, like the other kids?" The stigma attached to those who are different is hard to bear. Groping for something to say to give comfort to his daughter, he began to tell her a story. It was about someone else who was different, ridiculed, humiliated and excluded because of the difference. **

**Bob told the story in a humorous way, making it up as he went along; in the way that many fathers often do. His daughter laughed, giggled and clapped her hands as the misfit finally triumphed at the end. She then made him start all over again from the beginning and every night after that he had to repeat the story before she would go to sleep. **

**Because he had no money for fancy presents, Robert decided that he would put the story into book form. He had some artistic talent and he created illustrations. This was to be his daughter's Christmas present. The book of the story that she loved so much. He converted the story into a poem. **

**On the night before Christmas Eve, he was persuaded to attend his office Christmas Party. He took the poem along and showed it to a colleague. The colleague was impressed and insisted that Robert read his poem aloud to everyone else at the party. Somewhat embarrassed by the attention, he took the small hand written volume from his pocket and began to read. At first the noisy group listened in laughter and amusement. But then became silent and after he finished, they broke into spontaneous applause. **

**Later, and feeling quite pleased with himself, he went home, wrapped the book in Christmas wrapping and placed it under the modest Christmas tree. To say that his daughter was pleased with her present would be an understatement. She loved it! **

**When Robert returned to work after the Holiday, he was summoned to the office of his head of department. He wanted to talk to Bob about his poem. It seemed that word had got out about his reading at the Christmas party. The Head of Marketing was looking for a promotional tool and wondered if Robert would be interested in having his poem published. **

**The following year, 1939, printed copies of the book were given to every child who visited the department stores of Montgomery Ward and it eventually became an international best seller, making Robert a rich man. His wife had unfortunately died during this time, but he was able to move from the small apartment and buy a big house. He was at last able to provide handsomely for his growing daughter. **

**The story is not quite over. In 1947, songwriter Johnny Marks used the theme of Robert's poem for a song. He showed the song to a famous film star of the day, Gene Autry, 'The Singing Cowboy'. Autry recorded the song and it became a world-wide number one hit. You may just remember it. The first line goes...**_**"Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny nose...!"**_


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